At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Nasal Congestion
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
